Steam Machine
by Vague Apparitions
Summary: STEAMPUNK AU. The year is 1895. While the Spiritualist movement flourishes, two scientists create a portal which bridges the gap between science and the afterlife. . . Extended summary inside! Read and review, please. Rated T for safety.
1. The Fantastical Ghost Machine

Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom, Charles Babbage, or his Difference Engine.

**Extended Summary: **AU. The year is 1895. While the Spiritualist movement flourishes, two inventors build a Ghost Portal as an attempt to bridge the gap between science and religion. Their son, Danny, is caught in the midst of it all, and in an accident with the Portal, becomes half-ghost. To finance his dream of becoming the pilot of his own airship, Danny "Phantom" poses as an entirely human ghost-hunter, ridding buildings of supernatural phenomena for a small fee. As he realizes that the ghosts are mainly coming from the Portal, he abandons his occupation and begins the life of a hero. With Danny Phantom's ghostly nature coming into public awareness, and with the new sport of ghost-hunting on the rise, life as a half-ghost vigilante becomes more dangerous than ever.

**Author's Notes: **For those of you following "Deadly Things," this is the story I mentioned in the author's notes at the end of chapter six. Now, this has never, ever been done before. Ever. I checked. No one has ever written a steampunk Danny Phantom story - at least, on this site. I am so glad to be doing this, because I feel like this is just something new and exciting for people to read. And why not have a steampunk Danny Phantom? DP's already technically sci-fi, the technology is there, and the Spiritualist movement was a big deal during the Victorian era. Death was accompanied by so many Victorian superstitions, especially where ghosts are concerned. I just hope you guys like it.

A brief history lesson. Charles Babbage was a real person. He really did invent a Difference Engine, but it never recived the funding for him to complete it. The Difference Engine was basically a Victorian computer, but - of course - since it wasn't finished, we never benefited from it. The quote in the story was actually from Charles Babbage. The blueprints for the Engine were eventually found, and a Difference Engine was constructed for a museum. It was an amazing device. Yay, Babbage!

Now, a brief stint on steampunk. Steampunk is like cyberpunk, only Victorianized. It plays off of a lot of "What if?" factors - in many cases, "What if Charles Babbage finished his Difference Engine?" Steam technology is predominant, accompanied by gears, clockwork, copper, and brass, and the technology is typically what the Victorians did not actually have at the time, like jet packs and time machines. Steampunk can be set in the Victorian Era, or it could be in the present or future, too, so long as the present/future is still Victorianized. Basically, steampunk is really Victorian sci-fi, and technology is always, ALWAYS a huge part. Steampunk can also play off of supernatural, dystopian, and utopian themes. Two examples I particularly love are _Boneshaker_ (Now a part in the "Clockwork Century.") by Cherie Priest because I adore zombies, and Scott Westerfeld's _Leviathan_ series. If you want to learn more, look it up. Steampunk is marvelous.

* * *

**Chapter One**  
**The Fantastical Ghost Machine**

Spiritualism, some said, was an ungodly movement. The souls of the dead were judged based on Earthly behaviour, and then were subsequently sent to Heaven, Hell, or Purgatory, as was the common belief. The talk of so-called "mediums" contacting spirits residing in a "spirit world" or on Earth was absolute rubbish – a hoax, a con, a mass case of fraud – to some, yet many flocked to séances. Ghosts were in vogue; their popularity was undeniable.

The_ existence_ of ghosts was much more questionable. While one should have thought that matters beyond the grave concerned religion alone, scientific inquiry began to delve into matters of the spirit. It was no surprise – in that day and age, technology seemed to be the answer to everything, as it could _do_ virtually everything. Things one could only dream of before the "Golden Age" were now possible, and it was all brought on by one man.

Babbage began the work on his incredible Difference Engine in 1822, and completed it in 1853. The Difference Engine was, according to Babbage, "the application of machinery to the computation of astronomical and mathematical tables," which meant that it was a sort of mechanized _computer_ – that is, one who computes. The Difference Engine laid the base for invention and improved scientific experimentation, and by 1870, the Difference Engine began to improve, with heightened accuracy and smaller, more intricate designs.

What was not inspired by the Difference Engine was inspired by Babbage himself; a whole new generation of scientists was created, all of whom wanted to bring about the next great breakthrough in technology. From that generation spawned flying contraptions, jet packs, time machines, and a whole manner of other gizmos and gadgets. Industry vastly expanded, dirigible air trade was at its peak. Many people called the time period "the Golden Age" and "the Second Renaissance."

In 1895, there were two inventors in particular who attempted to breach the gap between science and religion. They boasted a rather unique claim: the invention of "ectoplasm-based technology." This technology was meant for the dectection, study, and hunting of ghosts. Some in the scientific community thought it madness, others thought it a scam, nothing more than the work of two charlatans, and another party thought of ghost-hunting as a new form of sport.

Of course, they were not mad, nor were they charlatans. (Ghost-hunting _did_ seem like it could become a novel hobby, albeit a dangerous one used for the common good.) The two scientists were only scientists – nothing more – who wished to prove the existence of spirits and a spirit realm. They had worked on a similar project twenty years prior with a comrade, and now, they wanted to create their "ghost portal" on a large scale. Improved schematics were drawn, formulas were computed, construction began, and in the end, it didn't work. Scientists ridiculed them, calling the project, "Jack and Madeline Fenton's Fantastical, Unfuctional Ghost Machine."

Then, one day, miraculously, the Portal began to work. No one really knew how or why, but it made headlines. The Fentons received more credibility than they ever had, and their success was more than enough revenge toward those in the scientific community who had jeered at them. The Portal _functioned _– it was a testament to scientific power, a breakthrough in shining brass, a milestone of the Golden Age.

None knew – not even Jack or Maddie – that their fourteen-year-old son, Daniel, was in the laboratory with his friends, Samantha (who daringly sported the practical, functional, and controversial new fashion of women's trousers) and Tucker, a tinkerer who wished to be a thriving inventor someday.

None knew of their curiosity, which swarmed about the Portal like a fly enamored by jam.

None knew that, as the media swarmed about his parents, the youngest Fenton stowed himself away in his room, suppressing his screams.

None knew that Danny was now noticeably transparent, that he could pass through solid objects, or that he could float in mid-air.

None knew that Danny was frightened to glance in a looking-glass for more than one second, for he feared that he would be trapped inside.

None knew, save Sam and Tucker, who had witnessed his initial transformation. Danny had went inside the Portal, pulled a lever, and was immediately struck by some sort of force – it was like lightning, enveloping the entire entrance of the Portal with a bright, green-tinted light. The light was soon replaced with a swirling vortex, and when Danny emerged – it _had_ to be Danny, though, for a moment, they did not recognize him –, he was incredibly pallid and weak. His hair had turned white as bone, his eyes were now the brilliant colour of undiluted absinthe, and he glowed with a soft, unnatural light.

Danny did not understand why his friends had gawked at him, nor did he understand why they were gazing _up_ at him, or why the floor of the laboratory seemed so far away. Upon understanding exactly why, Danny tightly shut his eyes, wishing for nothing more than for this nightmare to be over, and soon, he collapsed onto the ground. He noticed that his hair was once again dark, that he no longer posessed a strange aura, and that he was incredibly sore.

This was precisely when, in a showcase of impropriety and in an act of desperation to be alone, Danny left his friends to shut himself away in his room, where he could privately go into shock. As he hyperventilated, he realized that this was no dream, nor was it a nightmare.

_This is real_, he decided. The reality of his situation was made very clear by his hand suddenly disappearing. As much as he felt like a ghost, he felt somehow _human_ as well. He breathed, and, when he placed his hand upon his chest, he felt the frantic, irregular beating of his heart.

_Is it possible to be both a human and a ghost? _he thought. Suddenly, something rather terrifying occurred to him, something which would make him question the preconceived notions of life and death.

_What if I'm half-ghost?_

_

* * *

_

**Author's Notes: **This chapter has been revised. Why? Because I am hypercritical and can't bloody stop editing my own work. That's why.

Well? What did you think? Actually, my favourite thing about this is the insult, "Jack and Madeline Fenton's Fantastical, Unfunctional Ghost Machine." Yep. So, I named the chapter "The Fantastical Ghost Machine" just because I can. :3

I'm on the fence about continuing this as a story. I wonder if I should make it a collection of one-shots about this alternate, steampunk universe. I do know that there will be one other chapter concerning Danny's feelings over this whole thing. Otherwise, I need to think about it. Imput is appreciated, as are _reviews_. -hint, hint- ;)


	2. The Phantom in the Casket

**Disclaimer: I do not own Danny Phantom, nor do I own the various pieces of Victorian literature which are referred to here.**

**Author's Notes: **This chapter _should _be called "In Which Vague Apparitions Refers to as Many Pieces of Victorian Literature As She Can Whilst Still Making Some Sense" or "In Which Vague Apparitions Actually Establishes Some Form of a Plot." But it isn't, because that would be breaking the fourth wall, and that is a bad thing. . . in this particular case. There's some foreshadowing here as well.

And. . oh my. . I actually have a plot for this. A big "thank you" goes to my friend, Marissa, for helping me conquer writer's block. Next step, conquering the world. Muahaha.

Thank you to my reviewers as well. Your support gives me the drive I need to keep continuing my stories.

Chapter one has been revised, and I tweaked the story just a bit, though it's nothing major.

**10/6/10: This chapter has been heavily revised. As I was working on chapter three, I went back to read this chapter. I ended up rewriting a large portion of it. Therefore, I am deleting the old chapter and replacing it with this one. The storyline is virtually the same, but this has been modified so much that it's practically a new chapter.**

* * *

**Chapter Two**  
**The Phantom in the Casket**

Danny awoke, unsurprised, under his bed for the fifth consecutive morning that week. He crawled from underneath his mattress – as he had grown accustomed to – with nothing more than a groan. Granted, it could have been worse (he could have fallen through the floor as well), but his new. . . _abilities_. . . were out of control. During the day, Danny was exhausted, as he hardly slept; his malfunctioning powers and various nightmares made him restless.

The night before, one particularly disturbing event in the form of a literary-induced nightmare occurred. Granted, Danny didn't read much, though he had developed a taste for thrillers, scientific fiction, horror, some of the popular stories of the day, and whatever Sam gave him. In this vision, he was in his parents' darkened laboratory, surrounded by the ominous, shadowy shapes of steam-powered machinery and clockwork constructs. He saw a lone vial sitting upon a table. Curious, he approached it. Tied about the neck of the vial, there was a note which read, "Drink Me." There was a bit of an odd chemical within the glass tube. Danny obeyed the message, downing the contents of the vial in a second, allowing the liquid to burn his throat like acid. As he choked on the substance, his hair turned white, and he squeezed his eyes shut. A moment later, the boy woke in an open coffin. Under his fingernails was congealed blood that was not his. A voice from nowhere asked him his name, and without missing a beat, the dead creature called himself "Edward Hyde."

When asked by the voice (mayhaps it was the raven perched upon the tombstone, which peered into the six-foot-deep hole) what "Hyde's" business was, the oddity answered, "Life."

"Nevermore," quoth the raven.

"Death, then." As he spoke, "Hyde" turned to rot, and whatever putrid flesh remained on his bones was quickly being consumed by innumerable maggots.

Within a blink, Danny was lying – whole and maggot-free, however ghostly – upon a cold slab of metal. Leather straps bound his wrists, neck, and ankles. He struggled, but to no avail. Two figures loomed over him. Their goggles masked murderous glints in their eyes, giving them the appearance of wicked insects.

"Jack, will you pass me the motorized saw?" asked his mother. Danny's father handed Maddie a saw powered by clockwork and compressed steam. Maddie's thumb flicked a switch as she lowered the device toward Danny's neck, and the blade – which was really a large clock gear – spun so quickly that Danny could no longer see its serrated edges.

"Please, it's me!" Danny pleaded. "It's me, Danny!"

"Nevermore," croaked the voice of the raven.

He screamed, and then woke several feet above his bed.

_It was all just a dream,_ Danny realized. The moment he noticed that he was levitating, he fell onto the mattress with a soft _thud_.

"Danny! Danny, are you alright?" Maddie breathed as she hurried into his doorway, panic slurring her words. "I heard you screaming. Is there something wrong? You're as pale as a ghost."

Danny had to fight back the urge to jump backward, away from his mother. "N-no. I'm fine," he insisted. "It was only a nightmare. Sorry for scaring you."

Maddie heaved a relieved sigh from her chest. "Oh. Well, good-night, then."

"Good-night," said Danny, curling up beneath his sheets. That morning, when he was _under_ his bed as opposed to _above_ it, Danny stayed there for a few minutes.

He went through his daily routine that fifth consecutive morning, pretending that the accident never happened. No one noticed anything strange about Danny; he assumed that his family attributed the glass he dropped to clumsiness, not ghostliness, and that no one saw his entire arm vanish as he quickly left the house, wanting to be anywhere but in a room with scientists. He was right.

The moment he left the house, Danny decided to go to the docks. He contemplated flying there, but thought that flying (or attempting to do so) around airships would attract some unwanted attention. Instead, he walked there. He only faintly noticed his surroundings as he went along; the sputtering of the steam-powered automobiles, the colourful, exotic-looking posters for some curious attraction, and even the resounding, one-o'-clock ringing of the clock tower captured little of his attention. He only wanted to see the airships in flight, and perhaps imagine about piloting one.

Having strange, unruly powers left Danny little time to dream about his future. At any given moment, he could turn invisible without even meaning to. He kept well away from the bustling people of the docks; they were far too busy to be bothered by some loiterer, and Danny wanted to be alone for a little while. He found himself wondering about whether or not he could fly just as high as one of the ships, if he had a mind to. He'd be a shipless aeronaut.

_Maybe_, he thought, _someday, there'll be a bright side to this._

"Of course there's a bright side," Sam assured Danny later that day, when he confided in both her and Tucker. "You're unique. Your powers make you special. Think of all the things you can do now. You don't need a silly airship or a dirigible to fly. You can become invisible. If you wanted, nothing could ever touch you. You could go anywhere."

"I can't control any of it, Sam," Danny said. "I've been waking up under my bed every morning. By the way, airships aren't silly. They're amazing."

"Practice makes perfect," Sam said.

"Wait. You still want an airship?" Tucker asked, putting away a small device he was fixing.

"Yes."

"You didn't grow out of that? I thought you did."

"Not constantly mentioning it doesn't qualify as growing out of it."

"Airships are really expensive," Tucker said, "unless you go through the ranks and eventually become captain. Why do you think air-pirates commandeer them?"

"I know," Danny agreed. "I'm ready to work my way up, if I need to, and I'm ready to square off with any pirates who try taking _my_ ship."

"You don't need to fight them," Tucker pointed out, grinning cheekily. "You can just scare them away."

"Thank you, Tucker," Danny scowled, "for bringing_ that_ up again."

"Oh. Sorry. But. . . don't you think that could be a positive thing?"

"As much as I hate to admit it," Sam said, "he has a point."

"What? Scaring people? That's a positive thing? I'm not a monster!" At the moment, Danny's angry expression fell just slightly short of monstrous. His eyes were burning a fierce green as he glowered at his friends.

"Calm down," Sam prompted, her eyes wide. "Don't loose your temper."

Danny shut his eyes tightly, and when he opened them, they were once again blue. "Sorry."

"Tucker has a point, though. You can do positive things with your powers – things that would be useful in some situations, like scaring away pirates. Or other criminals."

"Are you suggesting that I become a vigilante?" Danny asked.

"I'm not suggesting anything," Sam said, "other than the fact that you can use your powers for good. Maybe you can find work."

"Where? In a sideshow?"

"Danny, have you seen the headlines?" Tucker inquired. "Ghost activity is through the roof. Séances are going wrong, ghosts are showing up when they shouldn't, people are being terrorized. . . This is a great opportunity."

"How?" Danny asked.

"You're a ghost – no offense –, so why not hunt these other ghosts down? It takes one to catch one. You can make some money, too, and someday. . ."

"Airship?" Danny offered with a grin.

"Airship," Tucker affirmed.

"Do you think people would really hire a ghost?" Sam criticized.

"No," Danny admitted, "but, really, no one has to know about that. Right?"

"Right. I think you should come up with a new name for yourself, too," Tucker advised. "Your parents might hear about the weird, ghost-hunting kid, and if someone ever figures out that you're even part-ghost. . ."

"True," Danny said. "Hm. . . What about. . . _Fenton, Fenton, what sounds like 'Fenton?' _Hm. . . Fff. . . Fe. . . Fff. . . Something ghostly would be good, I think."

"Just don't drive yourself mad," Sam said.

"Um. . . Specter, apparition, ghost, phantom. . ."

"That one sounded good," Sam pointed out.

"Specter?" Tucker asked.

"No. _Phantom_," Sam said.

"It sounds like 'Fenton,' too," Danny realized. "'Danny Phantom,' huh? I like it."

"It has a good sound to it," Tucker said.

"Alright, then." Danny said resolutely. "Danny Phantom it is."

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Oh, my goodness! I've established a PLOT for this! Huzzah!

As you can see, I opted Danny's dream of becoming an astronaut for becoming an aeronaut. More specifically, an airship pilot. Airships are quite steampunk, and they are extraordinarily cool. I mean, who wouldn't want to fly a ship? The saw I mentioned was lightly inspired by the blades of the clockwork droids from _Doctor Who_, (one of the best shows EVER) in the episode "The Girl in the Fireplace." Honestly, I think that episode really made me want to write this chapter.

But I digress.

Please, do _review._ I have tea and scones. :3

**10/6/10:** I want to take this oppertunity to thank those of you who have had the patience to read this revised version of chapter two. I'd also like to thank those of you who have added this story or myself to your favourites and alerts. Last, but not least, thank you to my reviewers. The reviews mean a lot to me. I'm currently working on chapter three of this, and I have many ideas which I'd like to use throughout this story.

To those of you waiting for "Deadly Things," I didn't quit. I'm just very busy. This is the point of "Deadly Things" where I need to map out a definite plot.


	3. An Odd Ghost Hunter

**DISCLAIMER: _DANNY PHANTOM_ BELONGS TO _BUTCH HARTMAN_, _CARTOONIST _EXTRAORDINARE, _CREATOR_ OF _ALL THINGS _PHANTASMICALLY _FANTASTICAL_! YOU'VE SEEN THE _REST_ - NOW SEE THE _BEST_!**

**Author's Notes: **Ahaha, that silly disclaimer is going to make sense soon. It's been a while since I've updated anything at all, I know. (Augh. . . College!) This chapter has been in the works for a while now. I'm glad to finally post it. As for the previous two chapters, I think they need a bit of revising. So, I'll be revising them until I'm happy with them. Actually, by the time I publish this, they very well may be revised.

With out further ado, I give to you the third chapter of "Steam Machine."

* * *

**Chapter Three  
An Odd Ghost-Hunter**

"I don't understand," said Dr. Damon Gray. "I thought these _spirits_ were only novelty!"

"Oh," said his superior, "they aren't. I can assure you, Dr. Gray, that whatever is running about in _my_ laboratory is entirely real. Do you not have accounts?"

"Well, yes, but. . ."

"'_But?' _Are you _contradicting _me? Don't forget, _doctor_, my company has owned this laboratory and its industrial facilities for _three years _now."

"I understand that, Mr. Masters. I'm just pointing out that it could all be hysteria over nothing. Ghosts are a popular topic these days, and their popularity has increased since the Fentons built their so-called 'Portal to the Ghost Realm.' It would be easy to blame coincidental occurances on a ghost."

"Then explain," said Mr. Masters, voice tainted with a sudden, obvious venom, "what _you_ saw."

"I. . . I. . . I saw what appeared to be a ghost, accompanied by a growl, if only for a split second. I was very tired, sir."

"But what did you see? The same apparition the other workers have reported. It is no mere coincidence!"

Dr. Gray was silent for a moment. While ghosts seemed an utterly ridiculous notion in general, what he had personally seen seemed perfectly _real._ What Mr. Masters mentioned was true; his account meshed with the others perfectly. "Perhaps there is some truth in all of this spiritual nonsense. . . and perhaps there is something to be studied in all of it."

"Precisely. Yet, for now, we must concern ourselves with the matter at hand. There is a ghost in Axion Laboratories. It is destroying my equipment and my property. I wish to see that the nuisance is removed."

"How?" asked Dr. Gray.

"You're a smart man, doctor," said Mr. Masters. "You're more than capable of making arrangements." With that, Mr. Masters pulled a flyer from his jacket pocket. It was folded and slightly battered, with tears where the paper had been nailed into a post or fence or wherever it had been. The flyer, in ink slightly smudged from the rain, read:

"**PESKY POLTERGEISTS? BOTHERSOME BANSHEES? AUDACIOUS APPARITIONS?**  
_GHOSTS _CAN BE A _SERIOUS PROBLEM_. IT'S TIME TO RID YOURSELF OF UNWANTED _PARANORMAL ACTIVITY_.  
**DANNY PHANTOM**, **PROFESSIONAL _SPECTRAL EXTERMINATOR_** AND **_SEER OF SPIRITS_**,WILL CLEANSE YOUR PROPERTY  
OF ALL_ ECTOPLASMIC ENTITIES_! GIVE YOURSELF _PEACE OF MIND_! LOW RATES AND _HUMANE _PROCESSES!"

"Dr. Gray, this ghost-hunter sounds intriguing, don't you think?"

"Of course," he answered. "He's the only _professional _ghost-hunter I've ever heard of."

"Precisely. Have _him_ fix this problem."

* * *

"Forgive my reaction," apologized Dr. Gray, slightly embarrassed after giving the teenage boy at the door an obviously incredulous look, "but you seem a bit young for a ghost-hunter. I was expecting someone a little. . . _older_."

"I understand, sir, but I'm a professional," Danny responded, flashing the man a quick, hopefully confident and convincing smile. The boy highly doubted it was either confident or convincing; he was so nervous that he was practically shaking. After all, it was his first job and he wasn't entirely sure how to go about it. "Besides, is it so rare to see someone my age working?"

"In a 'professional' career, yes," the man answered. "Have you done this before?"

"Actually," Danny confessed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, "you're my first customer. I can fix whatever problem you have, and if I can't, then it's free." Before Dr. Gray could speak, Danny offered, "I don't charge much, anyway."

"True," said Danny's employer. The flyer had been slightly misleading; it implied that this "Danny Phantom" was an experienced ghost-hunter. In truth, when it came to ads, things (or people, in this case) seemed much more marvelous than they realistically were. _He might be a charlatan,_ he thought, inspecting the strange, white-haired young man standing in the doorway, _and an odd one at that. . . but he said that it would be free if he couldn't really get rid of it._ "Come in, please, and don't touch anything, Mr. Phantom. This equipment is very expensive."

"Thanks, but please, call me 'Danny,'" the half-ghost corrected, "'Mr. Phantom' sounds too formal."

"Danny, then."

The moment Danny set foot inside, his jaw dropped. There were machines in the laboratory which he had never even seen before – great, hulking beasts made of copper and brass, furnished with clanking gears and whistling pipes. As they moved in mechanical fluidity, they acquired some strange sort of life to them. That life was expressed in the whirring of their cogs, which moved as whirligigs did – so rapidly that they were only a blur of golden-brown. So fascinated was Danny with the sight of it all that he hardly heard what his employer was saying to him.

". . . might be dangerous."

"Hm? I. . I didn't really catch that. I'm sorry. It's just. . . This place is amazing. I've never seen anything like it."

"It _is_ quite a sight, isn't it?" Dr. Gray chuckled as he glanced at the machinery. He tried recalling what it had looked like to him when he first began working at Axion Laboratories, but the memory of it was long-buried by time. "I'll give you the long and short of it. Over the past three months, we've had strange occurrences going on inside of the lab. When this began happening, the _incidents_ were considered as nothing more than annoyances. Now, they've escalated into threats."

"So, what are we dealing with?" Danny asked, internally cringing at the sound of his ghostly, echoing voice, which was more obvious indoors. He cleared his throat. "Any tragic deaths? Trauma? Um. . . Accidents?"

"None that I can think of," said Dr. Gray, a little too quickly for Danny's satisfaction.

"Sir," Danny said, "I need to know if anything went on here. It's all confidential."

"You can't tell. Swear on it."

"I swear."

Dr. Gray sighed. "A few months ago, we decided to switch to the new K-9 units. The previous form of security was terminated."

"Previous form? You mean. . ."

Dr. Gray nodded, ashamed. "We'd like to keep it quiet. It was a mass euthanization. Those dogs were trained from youth to be vicious; they couldn't be kept as pets."

Danny clenched his jaw; he liked dogs, and when he thought of what happened in the very building where he stood. . . it made him sick. He brusquely said, in a voice as cold as winter, "One of 'em's hanging around here, huh? That's why you called me."

"Unfortunately, yes. I didn't believe in ghosts before this dog started showing up. Even after I encountered it, I was skeptical. The head of the company firmly believes that ghosts are real, and he's convinced me that there's a possibility of it."

"Hm. Odd."

"Odd?"

"A little. Almost everyone seems to believe in ghosts these days."

"Almost," Dr. Gray pointed out, "but not me, until now. I'm a rational man. I need to prove that something is real to believe in it."

Danny was very tempted to say, "_Plenty of rational people've always believed, doctor, __and they haven't proved anything,_" but he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he simply stated, "I understand."

"What do you intend to do, if you don't mind my curiosity?"

"I _intend_ to trap it," Danny explained, gesturing to the black box he held by its leather strap, "with this. Have you heard of a camera stealing someone's soul?"

"That's just a superstition."

"Not with this. This is a _special _camera. It was designed to trap ghosts inside."

"Does it work well?"

"Um, actually," Danny confessed, "it's just a prototype, but like I said, if I can't get rid of the ghost, you don't pay anything."

"Interesting," Dr. Gray said absently. He was less curious about the camera, and more curious about the hunter holding it. _Where a teenage boy would find such unique ghost-hunting equipment, especially a prototype?_ he wondered. "Did you invent it yourself?"

"Um, no," Danny said, nervous. When he took this job, he wasn't expecting questions. "I, uh. . . I. . . I bought it." It was believable enough, Danny guessed. Commercial ghost-hunting equipment – while rare, over-priced, largely the same, and unfunctional – was slowly showing itself on the market.

Suddenly, he gasped. It felt like a thousand needles of ice punctured his throat and lungs at once, forcing the air from his chest. It was unlike anything Danny had ever felt, and it was both unprecedented and unpleasant. The ghost boy shivered.

"You look ill," Dr. Gray said, a little taken back by how quickly Danny's state had changed. He could have sworn that he'd just seen his employee's breath, just as if it was a winter day. _I must have only been seeing things, _he thought.

"D-Dr. Gray, p-please leave," Danny said, heaving lungful after lungful of freezing air in and out of his chest. He had an overwhelming feeling that someone – or _something_ – was angry. . . protective. . . and, suddenly, a little excited. Or maybe anxious. "I have a feeling that things are going to get very dangerous very soon."

"What are you saying?"

"I-It's here. The ghost, I mean. The ghost is here."

* * *

**Author's Notes:** In case anyone is a tad curious about the "human processes" portion of the ad - yes, Sam was behind that bit. That's how it worked out in my head. If you thought that, you're right. Gear-shaped cookies for you!

I got the idea for the ad from "A Study in Emerald" by Neil Gaiman, found in _Fragile Things_. Victorian ads are absolutely a blast to write! I'll try to write up and post the next chapter as soon as I can. But, before I leave you all, I have something to say. . .

**VAGUE APPARITIONS**, _**AUTHOR OF VARIOUS FICTIONS AND CURIOSITIES**_, _ASKS_ - NAY, IMPLORES YOU TO _LEAVE A REVIEW_!  
_WRITERS_ ARE IN NEED OF _HONEST REVIEWS_; DO NOT DENY **VAGUE APPARITIONS** YOUR _OPINIONS_!  
BE A _CATALYST_ FOR _LITERARY MOTIVATION_! STIR THE MUSES! _TAKE THE TIME_ TO SAY, "_HELLO_, VAGUE!"  
_ALSO_, **VAGUE APPARITIONS** DOES NOT REGRET USING _STEAMPUNK COOKIES_ AS AN _INCENTIVE FOR REVIEWS_. (_BRIBERY_ HAS ITS _BENEFITS_.)  
YOUR SUPPORT IS _GREATLY APPRECIATED_.


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